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 Sep 2015 raine cooper
VVanGone
I'm an apostle of broken things
of bitter blows and sacred stings
the night turns weary inside the dark
the taste of death come morning

I wake inside this unholy night
broken against a fearsome light
blinded by music too much too soon
the ache of love gone missing
 Sep 2015 raine cooper
VVanGone
I can write words that wrap around her skin
words that slip deep inside her mind
words that can push deep within her
against slick, receptive flesh
but she is no poem
not metered or unstructured
no words can say who she is
*for she is more
far more
than even the miracle of words
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